


Electric Indigo

by BlueColoredDreams



Series: Electric Indigo [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Couples' Tattoos, Future Fic, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Tattoo/Piercing AU, Tattooing as a form of foreplay, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: Kei comes back from an extended business trip with one goal-- to be close to Tadashi.
This goal is accomplished via a tattoo that means a lot more than it seems.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The unasked for, but completely necessary, continuation for that piercing/tattoo AU fic.  
> (●´艸`)

_“I want to be close to you_ ,” the message had said. There was a rough sketch attached. 

Tadashi’s hands are warm through the latex, fingers firm. Fingers that smooth over him and stretch his flesh, probing the area around his shoulder with a deft surety that leaves Kei’s head reeling.

Or maybe the way his head spins is just jetlag and exhaustion from his flight from America, back from a long tour with a band that mattered to his wallet only; the condos  he and Tadashi have been  daydreaming about are far from inexpensive, and he's been planning on paying Tadashi's half as a present for a while now. 

He could have waited, but the second his feet hit the concrete sidewalk outside of the airport, his feet took him to a cab and his mouth took him to Tadashi.

Or maybe it’s that they’ve been apart for too long for Kei’s tastes—he missed six years of being with Tadashi out of his own stupidity, so one would think three months would be nothing.

It’s everything.

“Easy,” Tadashi murmurs as Kei jolts from the cool press of alcohol to his skin.

Kei shakes his head. His hands shake and his mouth is dry. Tadashi’s mouth curls up at the edges, the light glinting off of the studs in his brows.

There’s a spotlight, just on them. The shop is dark except for Tadashi’s station, a single standing clamp light throwing intense white light over them.

Kei reaches out and cups Tadashi’s cheek in his hand. It’s warm and soft and Tadashi leans into the touch, like a lion nuzzling its trainer’s hand. Tadashi is all softness and danger, the gentle press of his skin to Kei’s palm contrasting with the way his body shifts as he stands and leans over Kei, all leather straps and silver buckles.

 “This will probably hurt more than the last one,” Tadashi says with a wicked smirk.

Kei’s head is light, and his lips part in a silent plea. He’s more aroused than he should be in this situation: it’s just a tattoo, but the way Tadashi touches him as he moves him into the best position, the way he walks to his bench, all of it is done with the express intentions to arouse him.

Did the people Tadashi worked on that day know that that harness wasn’t some simple fashion accessory?

Surely not—this, like everything else, is a move designed to seduce Kei.

He doesn’t need seducing, but god, seeing Tadashi would have done it just fine. Kei’s ready to fall on his knees from just seeing Tadashi in his harness, with the buckles let out to accommodate Tadashi’s broad shoulders and the most flattering pair of jeans Tadashi probably owns. 

This is not a session between a professional and a client: This is intimate.

Kei would not have it any other way.

He wanted to be close to Tadashi, and this was the way he thought of. Just like in the beginning, how he could barely string two words together, so he kept coming back until he finally could. Now he doesn’t have to do these things to be close to Tadashi, but he wants to, needs to.

Tadashi picks up his gun, checking each piece and each needle before he turns back to where Kei sits. Rather than fire it up, he sets it back down, peeling his gloves off of his hands.

Kei tips his head to the side, raising an eyebrow.

“I just,” Tadashi says softly, “I want to check the outline against the area again.”

Kei knows it’s a lie. Tadashi’s checked the stencil already, it’s ready to be transferred onto his skin where it tingles with drying alcohol.

He plants his feet against the floor as Tadashi runs his palms down his back, as Tadashi’s fingers press each knob of his spine. He shudders as Tadashi’s breath ghosts over the shell of his ear. Tadashi’s hands dance around to rest on his stomach and Kei arches his back, his shoulders pressing back into Tadashi.

“Is it good?” Kei’s voice is rough with exhaustion and need.

He likes the game they’re playing, wants to have more steps in the dance Tadashi’s leading him in.

His body sings like a live wire, skin crawling with the hypersensitivity that comes before a great pain as his stomach burns with want.

“Yeah,” Tadashi whispers. His mouth finds Kei’s ear as his fingers rub at Kei’s hips. “It’s good.”

Kei doesn’t think Tadashi is exactly talking about the transfer stencil. He doesn’t care, not really. All he cares about is Tadashi, Tadashi’s hands on him, Tadashi’s mouth. The scratch of his blunt nails and his teeth and the promise of building pain that will mark him as Tadashi’s. He wants Tadashi to own him, all of him, his body and his heart and the air that burbles up from his lungs as Tadashi slips one hand down his pants, right there.

This is just a part of belonging; this is him giving himself over.

“You want this?” Tadashi asks, still playing with Kei under the band of his boxers, cool fingers on hot flesh.

“Yeah,” Kei croaks. “All of it.”

Tadashi withdraws with a gentle kiss to the back of Kei’s neck, between his shoulders.

Kei watches Tadashi wash his hands and prepare the stencil. He closes his eyes as Tadashi pulls on gloves once more, as he presses the transfer over the thin jut of his shoulder blade. There’s rustling and clinks as Tadashi sets out the ink and tissues that he needs around Kei; Kei keeps his eyes closed even as Tadashi’s hands find his back once again.

Tadashi’s hands are firm and steady, and Kei  thinks of all the things he wants Tadashi to do to him and his fantasies almost drown out the starting buzz of the tattoo gun.

“What are you thinking about?” Tadashi asks after about five minutes of silence.  

Kei hisses through his teeth, sweat beading above his lip and on the back of his neck as his fingers curl against his thighs. He scratches his nails over his jeans as he clenches his fists, thinking about Tadashi’s hands and the way they’re steady through the pain.

“I want to fuck until I pass out,” Kei grits out.

“So not long?” Tadashi teases. His breath is a cool puff against hot skin.

Kei grunts.

“Not long now,” Tadashi soothes.

Kei inhales and holds his breath until he sees white at the edges of his vision, then lets his breath out in a huff.

Tadashi murmurs something, some nonsense hum of half words and his name and Kei grits his teeth down. Exhaustion and arousal mingle with the pain and makes his skin crawl with gooseflesh and the sensation of tiny ants, like his entire body is a limb folded under his weight for too long.

“Tadashi,” he says, like a dam breaking; “Tadashi, I missed you.”

Tadashi’s inhale is sharp over the hum of the gun, but his hands stay steady and firm as he fills in the last few lines to the fresh tattoo on Kei’s back, to the lines that Kei had sketched and he had filled out and perfected for his lover, for the tattoo complimentary to his own.

Seeing it makes it feel like his skin over his own tattoo is burning, and Tadashi wants to weep.

“I missed you too,” he says, voice unsteady.

“I missed you,” Kei repeats. “I know it didn’t seem like it, maybe…”

“I could tell,” Tadashi says softly. He turns the gun off and sets it to the side. “It was hard, but I could tell.”

“But you were still scared,” Kei supplies, voice hushed.

“Well, yeah,” Tadashi says. He pulls away and starts the process of changing the needles, tossing the used one in the bag for the autoclave. He fits on the color needles to fill in the black silhouettes of the finished design. He pauses, steadying his shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” Kei says, once the needles are pressed back to his skin.

“You had to go for work, it’s not like…”

“It’s not like after high school, but I’m still sorry,” Kei says, abashed.  His head hangs and his spine is a series of risen knobs down his back.

Tadashi wants to scrape his mouth over each of them, work his way across each rise and fall of Kei’s thin body. The tension is a piano wire between them, thin but strong, pulled so tight that each word between them is the strike of a key, making that pulled taut wire of their bodies and minds sing.

“I love you,” Kei says, face splotched pink and sweat shining in the light.

“I love you too,” Tadashi says as he fills the last stark shape on Kei’s shoulder.

He lets his hands shake as he wipes away the last bit of blood from Kei’s skin. The air between them is electric and overwhelming; Tadashi thinks that their relationship is intense, usually, but even more so today. He doesn’t mind, not really.

Kei catches Tadashi’s hand, eyes dark as he turns his head. “Please,” he says.

Tadashi leans forwards and presses his lips to Kei’s in a brief, chaste kiss. “Soon,” he promises.

Kei lets him go, lets Tadashi rub ointment onto his shoulder and carefully tape bandages over the area. Watches as Tadashi cleans his area back up and deposits everything in its rightful places and sanitizes his bench. Admires his professionalism even in a situation like this—wouldn’t have it any other way.

He watches with fixed intensity, cataloguing the slight changes in Tadashi’s appearance. Skin pale from the lack of summer’s sun, longer, shaggier hair; a new ball in his brow and a change in the gauge of his lobes. His tongue traces his lips, wondering how Tadashi would taste after weeks of only having his own hand as a partner in bed.

“I missed your birthday,” Kei says as he tracks Tadashi with his eyes.

“You called, you butt,” Tadashi laughs, hips swaying back and forth as he cleans the counter.

“Physically,” Kei says, a smirk playing on his lips.

Tadashi tosses the rag in the dirty laundry bag, wrist arching as it leaves his hand. “You’ll make it up to me tonight, won’t you.”

It’s not a question.

Kei rises to his feet and holds out his hands. Tadashi hands him his shirt. It’s not what Kei wanted, but he can’t complain.

He buttons up the flannel slowly, careful of the burn in his shoulder as he moves.

“You’ll have to be facedown tonight, but I think you can handle that,” Tadashi says conversationally, scooping up his effects in one hand, balancing the trashbag and keys in the other.

Kei snorts. “Only facedown, huh?”

“Only facedown,” Tadashi says, face serene with a daydream.

Kei’s spine tingles and he bites the inside of his lip carefully. Tadashi’s always been so adamant about not fucking where he works—not even in the staff room. Otherwise… 

Tadashi turns off the lights and ushers Kei down the rickety old fire escape to the back parking lot.

“My car’s over there—I’m gonna toss this, here—”

Kei catches the keys between his palms before he’s even realize Tadashi’s thrown them. “You’ll be okay?”

Tadashi nods, “Go on, it’s cold out and your dumb ass doesn’t have a jacket.”

“It was hot this mOrdnung. In America,” Kei mutters, sticking out his lower lip.

Tadashi just laughs and turns towards the dumpster.

Kei shuffles towards Tadashi’s car, grateful the other man had driven the few blocks for him. He’s not sure if he’s up to the walk to Tadashi’s apartment. As soon as he sits, chill and exhaustion sink into him. He leans his cheek against his palm, watching Tadashi’s silhouette toss his bag into the dumpster.

His eyes burn, so he closes them, focusing his attention on the ache in his shoulder. The next thing he knows is Tadashi’s voice and the soft feeling of Tadashi’s thumbs on his palm.

He opens his eyes slowly, disoriented by the change in scenery outside of Tadashi’s windshield.

“You fell asleep,” Tadashi murmurs, gently extending and folding Kei’s fingers with his own. “I let you. We can wait, you know, if you’re tired.”

“Mm,” Kei hums, watching Tadashi’s fingers interlace with his own.

Tadashi lifts his hand and puts Kei’s fingers to his mouth.

Kei is suddenly wide awake.

Every inch of skin on his body is hypersensitive, almost an ache; Tadashi’s lips are warm and dry, slightly rough. He spreads his fingers and probes the seam of Tadashi’s lips.

Tadashi opens his mouth for him; there is no way Kei can think about sleeping now as he hooks his fingers over Tadashi’s teeth.

Tadashi’s cheeks hollow slightly as he sucks on Kei’s forefingers, tongue slipping between his pointer and middle.

Kei leans forward, seatbelt biting into his neck as he strains, and pulls his fingers from Tadashi’s mouth. He slides his fingers, slick and sticky now, over Tadashi’s cheeks as he kisses him.

Tadashi lets his hand fall to Kei’s leg, gripping his knee for balance. Kei drags his fingers through Tadashi’s hair, pulling it out of its bun at the base of his skull. Tadashi’s tongue sweeps through his mouth, the ball of his piercing warm against Kei’s tongue; as they pull away, Tadashi sweeps it over Kei’s lips.

“I see,” Tadashi chuckles. He squeezes Kei’s knee, and Kei’s stomach swoops.

Kei fumbles with his seatbelt and stumbles from the car. He wishes briefly he’d thought ahead and pulled sleep clothes from his luggage before he’d abandoned it in the foyer of his apartment, but he remembers that there’s little possibility of him actually _needing_ them.

Without waiting, he starts the short walk to Tadashi’s apartment. Snow and ice dusts the walkway, so he treads carefully, shivering in his light flanel shirt.

“I’ll warm you up,” Tadashi leers behind him, hands finding Kei’s hips as Kei waits at Tadashi’s door.

“You sound sleazy, let me in,” Kei mumbles, face flushing.

“If you want in, I’ll have to ride you,” Tadashi retorts.

Kei scoffs and steps back onto Tadashi’s foot. “Key,” he says. “ _Key._ ”

Tadashi laughs, loud and contagious. Kei lets the smile ease onto his face, hugging his arms close as Tadashi dutifully pulls his keys out.

Tadashi’s still laughing even as Kei slips out of his coat and kicks his shoes off; Kei reaches out and wraps his arms around Tadashi’s chilly waist. “Tadashi,” he complains.

“Kei,” Tadashi replies.

Kei pouts.

Tadashi smirks at him, eyelids falling to a heavy-lidded leer. He leans in, barely brushing his lips to Kei’s. “Is there something you want, Tsu-ukki?” he whispers.

Kei starts fumbling with the buttons on Tadashi’s coat. “Yeah.”

Tadashi grabs his hands and holds them up between them. “And that is?” he asks, his voice almost a humming breath.

Kei tips his head to the side, “It’s not obvious?”

“Well,” Tadashi laughs. He tugs Kei forward, walking backwards into his apartment, towards the bed. “Maybe a _little_.”

Kei laughs, crawling over Tadashi as he settles onto the mattress. “Just a little, huh?” he teases, cupping a hand between Tadashi’s legs.

Tadashi makes a quiet noise, breath shuddering out of him. “Yeah, well,” he says, color rising on his cheeks.

“Yeah, well,” Kei repeats, as he unzips Tadashi’s pants. He ghosts his lips over Tadashi’s in a teasing kiss before he leans back onto his heels. “Take off your clothes for me?”

“You don’t want to?” Tadashi teases, wiggling his eyebrows in an expression of exaggerated surprise.

Kei splutters back a laugh, pushing his hand into Tadashi’s face. “Tadashi,” he complains.

Tadashi grabs Kei’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “Kei,” he answers.

Kei feels Tadashi’s smirk against his skin, watching raptly as Tadashi’s tongue darts out to trace the juncture of his first two fingers. “I like to watch you do it, though,” he answers.

He pulls his hand away from Tadashi as Tadashi pushes himself up onto his elbows.

Tadashi tips his head thoughtfully. “Are you going to strip too?” he asks.

Kei reaches up and starts to slowly undo each button of his shirt in reply. Tadashi laughs softly, reaching down to pull up his shirt. Kei watches the way Tadashi’s muscles flex under his skin, how his piercings catch the low light of Tadashi’s little desk lamp, the tracery of Tadashi’s constellation tattoo.

Kei slides off of the bed to stand so he can wriggle out of his jeans as he shrugs off his shirt. Tadashi laughs and shakes his head at the way Kei starts to tug at the ankles of his own pants.

“You’re gonna have to pull a little harder,” Tadashi says languidly.

“Stupid fucking skinny jeans,” Kei mutters, giving one good yank as Tadashi raises his hips to push the waistband down.

Once Kei’s finished with the ordeal of Tadashi’s skinny jeans, he rubs his thumbs against Tadashi’s knees, gazing down at his boyfriend. The length of his legs, the way his dick rests against dark hair on his belly, the way Tadashi bites down on his lip as he looks. He missed it so badly—he never wants to leave again.

He presses Tadashi’s knees apart and crawls between them, mouth pressing soft kisses to the inside of Tadashi’s knee.

Tadashi reaches out and grabs Kei’s wrists, tugging him forward. Kei  leans forward as Tadashi’s hands go to the small of his back, pressing their hips together. Kei ruts forward, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure jolts through him.

One of Tadashi’s hands slides up his spine to the back of his neck, and Tadashi pulls again, guiding Kei down as Kei rolls his hips into Tadashi’s.

Kei presses his forehead against Tadashi’s, glasses sliding down his nose. 

He reaches up and pulls them off, half slamming them on the nightstand.

Kei circles his hips, back tight and mouth falling open. Tadashi sucks his lip into his mouth, nails digging into his scalp.

Kei moans, shuddering at the feeling. Tadashi groans, and suddenly the world shifts.

Tadashi locks his knees against Kei’s hips as he shifts, rolling them over. “Sorry,” he pants, mouth slick. “But I meant it. I want to fuck you into the mattress,” he says bluntly.

Kei feels himself twitch against Tadashi and Tadashi pushes back with a fluid roll of his body. His hands cover Kei.

Kei closes his eyes and tips his head back, body burning as Tadashi’s hands roam his skin. Tadashi starts with cupping his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as Kei turns his mouth to Tadashi’s palm, moaning against it.

Then down, against his neck, and over his shoulders, fingers pressing against his clavicle. Then down his arms, fingers rubbing against his wrists as Tadashi picks his hands up and places them on his hips.

Kei grips Tadashi’s hips like a lifeline, voice cracking as the skin between them grows slick with sweat and precum. Kei feels himself throb and spurt as Tadashi’s thumbs go to his nipples, rubbing slow clockwise circles over his piercings.

Kei presses his shoulders against the mattress, whimpering as Tadashi tugs at his nipples softly, rubbing them between his finger and thumb.

“Tadashi,” he cries.

“Oops,” Tadashi murmurs. “I bet that hurt your shoulder. Roll over for me.”

Kei can’t argue—it did hurt when he pushed his back against the mattress. “Don’t stop touching me—”

“Of course not, pet,” Tadashi murmurs softly, stroking Kei’s cheek again. “Now roll.”

Kei rolls onto his stomach, squaring his knees into the mattress. Tadashi leans over him, weight pressing against his back, solid and warm.

“Here,” Tadashi murmurs. He pulls a few pillows down from the headboard; “Lift up.”

Kei arches up off of the bed, taking the pillows from Tadashi to wedge them under his stomach. “So courteous,” he snickers.

Tadashi circles his hands around Kei’s hip, cupping one against Kei’s stomach as the other trails up to pinch at a nipple. “You complain for _days_ if you get too sore.”

Kei drops his forehead to the sheets, pressing back into Tadashi’s hips, pleasure shivering down his spine to pool in his stomach. Tadashi’s fingers have him gasping, and the way his hips rock into the pillows each time Tadashi rolls his hips against his have him moaning. “I’d—rather be—sore for a different reason,” he retorts, fingers curling into the bedding.

Tadashi nuzzles his neck, then bites down. “So you say,” he murmurs.

Tadashi slips his hand down, feeling the sharp jut of Kei’s hip, then the soft curve of Kei’s inner thigh. His other hand goes up to Kei’s neck, careful of the pressure exerted on his fingertips. He’s choked Kei before, and Kei liked it immensely, but he doesn’t want that tonight. He just wants to feel Kei against his hands, against his skin.

He’d gone without Kei for so long that surely a business trip—however extended it was—wouldn’t affect him. But then, he supposed, he’d already done his time without—and once you had something, you didn’t quite want to let it go.

The fact that Kei let Tadashi mark him as his still shakes Tadashi to his core. Scorpio, down his shoulder, right behind his heart.

Tadashi presses his fingers into Kei’s open mouth, scraping his fingers against Kei’s teeth.

He’d felt like such a loser when he’d gotten his own tattoo in college— a hopeless stalker, getting his unrequited love’s star sign inked on him on a whim. Pretentious and pitiful, but still Tadashi had wanted it to remind him to act on what he wanted when he wanted it. And now, they match.

They match and Kei is writhing beneath him, exhausted and border-line over stimulated and dripping onto his hand as he curls his fingers around Kei’s erection. Kei bites him, not out of malice, but because Kei always grits his teeth when he’s trying not to come.  Tadashi’s stomach jolts into his mouth, and suddenly it feels like his skin is crawling with electricity.

He pulls fingers out of Kei’s mouth and blindly fumbles for the bottle of lube at the head of the bed, where it was left that morning after Tadashi had woken up from a dream of what he wanted to do to Kei once he had him in his bed.

Kei pants hard, elbows digging into the sheets as he repositions himself.

Tadashi leans back, suddenly cold now that he’s not fully draped over Kei’s back.

Kei is gorgeous like this, knees spread apart and ass up, neck beautifully bowed as he pushes his forehead to the sheets. His arms and thighs tremble with effort despite the pillows to give him stability.

“Shh,” Tadashi says, even though Kei hasn’t said a thing. It’s more to soothe himself than Kei, anyway.

He pours lube onto his fingers, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers to get it warm. He presses his thumb to Kei’s hole, rubbing slow circles until the skin is glistening with lube. Kei’s body rocks as Kei ruts into the pillows against his hips, fingers fisting the sheets so tightly Tadashi can see his arms shake.

 He presses one finger inside of Kei, thrusting slowly at first. He picks up the pace as he adds a second finger,  trying to tamp down on his impatience. He wants to lean up against Kei again, cover Kei’s body with his own and with his hands again.

Kei presses back into his fingers, whining as Tadashi stretches his fingers out as he pulls back, stretching his hole.

“Can I go in bare?” Tadashi asks, spreading Kei’s cheeks out with both hands.

Kei nods against the sheets, face pink and sweaty. Tadashi lines himself up, then pushes inside of Kei, hissing at the tightness and the heat of it. He shudders as he sinks himself in, until his hips lie flushed against Kei’s hips.

Kei curls his toes against the sheets, stomach tight with pleasure. He feels like he’s burning on the inside, a feeling that grows even more intense as Tadashi’s weight shifts behind him.

Tadashi presses himself flush to Kei’s back, face tucked once again at Kei’s neck. His weight pushes Kei down against the pillows, dick trapped between his stomach and the fabric, each breath rubbing him against the growing damp spot.

Tadashi’s hands pet up and down his sides, ticklish and sensitive enough to make him squirm and whimper. One slides around to his lower stomach, pushing against his pelvis as Tadashi’s hips rock deep into him in a slow pattern. Kei gasps and gasps again, the pressure on his stomach making Tadashi feel like he’s even deeper in him, a hot pressure that builds against the back of his throat, choking him.

Kei jerks and circles his hips, trying to relieve just a little bit of the pressure before he comes. Tadashi follows the movements with a frantic jerk of his hips.

Then another, and another, until Tadashi sets a harsh rhythm of insistent, deep thrusts. Kei claws at the mattress, voice joining the sound of each smack of the headboard of the bed. Tadashi ruts forward even as Kei slides on the sheets, chasing his movements with his body.

“Fuck, fuck—Tadashi—“ Kei cries out, thighs straining as he tries to push himself up off of the pillows.

Tadashi pins him down with his hips and holds him tight with his hands. He  nuzzles Kei’s neck, fingers biting into Kei’s stomach as his thrusts lose their deepness and power.

Kei’s face pushes against the sheets as Kei’s hips slip off of the pillows. Tadashi’s thrusts grow even shallower, but he doesn’t slow. Tadashi whines in Kei’s ear, voice rough and needy. His free hand scrabbles out, seeking Kei’s hand. He clutches his fingers at Kei’s knuckles, sliding his fingers through Kei’s to join at Kei’s desperate grasp on the sheets.

Kei almost swears as Tadashi slips out of him; his body tenses around Tadashi’s head for a brief second before Kei is shivering from the sudden emptiness.

Tadashi’s fingers fist against Kei’s stomach, blunt nails dragging at soft skin. He lifts his body, trying to realign himself, but he can’t bear to pull his hands from Kei now that he finally has a hold on him after so long.

“Fuck,” Tadashi swears, “I can’t— I’m gonna, just let me—” he babbles, hips still circling against Kei.

Kei arches his spine as Tadashi slips between his legs. Hot, damp flesh drags over his balls and against the swollen base of his erection.

Kei clamps his thighs shut around Tadashi as Tadashi presses him hard against the mattress. His hips hit Kei’s ass and his dick drags against Kei’s own erection.

Tadashi’s hand inches downwards and closes around Kei and Kei ruts into it. Tadashi squeezes each time he drags his hips back, thumb rubbing the underside of Kei’s leaking head.

Kei comes with a shout into Tadashi’s hand, stomach feeling hot and his skin aching. He lifts back up against Tadashi, thighs shaking as he squeezes them even tighter together against Tadashi’s erection.

Tadashi bites into Kei’s neck as he comes, squeezing Kei’s hand tight. He sinks against Kei’s body, breathing hard as he trembles through the aftershocks of orgasm.

Eventually, when both of their breath has evened out, and Tadashi’s hand underneath Kei’s body starts to tingle, Tadashi drags his hand from Kei’s and wedges it under the blond’s chest. He rolls them both over, off of the pile of pillows to the clean side of the bed.

Kei shifts in his arms and Tadashi loosens his hold on Kei so that the other man can roll over.

He presses his nose to Kei’s, gently nuzzling Kei. Kei’s lips curve as Tadashi’s brush his.

“Hey,” Tadashi murmurs, smoothing back a hank of sweat-damp curls from Kei’s temple. “How was your trip?”

Kei laughs, arms looping around Tadashi’s neck, lacing against his shoulders.

Tadashi beams as Kei continues to laugh like he’s told the funniest joke on the planet, pleased at the overflow of tired exuberance. He leans in for a kiss, and laughs himself as he misses, catching the corner of Kei’s mouth with his lips. His fingers brush against the bandages of Kei’s new tattoo, happiness bubbling up in his chest.

“I think you were supposed to ask that _hours_ ago—before we fucked,” Kei finally breathes. He leans his forehead to Tadashi’s neck, nestling in for sleep. Kei laughs to himself, then slings a leg over Tadashi’s hip. “Oh well, it isn’t like we don’t have time.”

“No, we have all the time we want,” Tadashi confirms, lightly tracing the lines of Kei’s tattoo over the bandage from memory alone. “Sleep. Tell me later.”

Kei hums a soft confirmation; Tadashi falls asleep a while later, still thinking of the constellations on their skins and in their hearts, and the heat that Kei provides him, a bright burning thing that always guides him.

And Tadashi can sleep knowing that for Kei, it’s just the same.

 


End file.
